My Back to School Thunderstorm

Tomorrow morning I will start my tenth year as a school teacher.

Every year, FOR NINE YEARS, on the day before classes start, the heavens have opened and a magnificent thunderstorm has signaled the end of the summer, the cleansing of the slate, and the start of an awesome school year.

But this year (did I mention that this is my 10th year?) I thought I might miss my storm due to a change in our school calendar. Instead of starting classes the week after fair, the start of school was pushed back until after Labor Day.

We did have some rainstorms last week, and I did get to run through one of them as I rushed into a district ELA meeting, but it just wasn't the same.

My back-to-school-storm is usually on a Sunday afternoon or evening when I have time to sit outside and enjoy the sounds and smells of the rain, thunder, and lightning. Dashing through the high school parking lot in a downpour just wasn't the same sort of calming, renewing experience.

I thought Mother Nature might be making it up to me (or humoring me) last weekend when I was visiting my Utah niblets and attending the storytelling festival. A rainstorm blew in one afternoon, so I went outside under the guise of "rolling up my car windows". It was a nice little downpour, and I thought it would be enough to fulfill the tradition and get my school year (my 10th school year) off to a good start.

I was fine with my Utah substitute storm until this morning, when I realized I had missed a perfectly good storm because I  had windows shut and music playing while I worked on school stuff. 

When I went out to my car and saw the evidence of the missed storm, I was pretty bummed. 

But this evening, just as I finished choosing awesome first-week-of-school-outfits,  I got a second chance to carry on my favorite back to school tradition. I saw the lightning flash outside my window, heard the thunder, and didn't waste a single second. 

I pulled in my slippers, ignored the fact that I was already in my jim-jams, scooped myself an ice cream cone, and sat outside enjoying my storm.

This little thunder-filled, mud-scented tender mercy was a great reminder that Heavenly Father knows me really well. Between the thunderstorm and the awesome back to school blessing I received yesterday, I am really feeling pretty special.

So I hope that the rest of you folks here in Cow Town enjoyed my back-to-school storm. I will gladly take credit for praying the rain into our valley.

Unless, of course, the lightning started another fire or the rain ruined some part of harvest. Then all the credit goes right to the weather dude on channel 11.

Warm/Winter Weather Wanderings and Wonderings

One year ago, I was in the purposeful process of packing for my momentous move to my new apartment.

One of the major selling points (or renting points, as the case may be) of the new place was its proximity to my place of employment. I can walk from my awesome new apartment's aperture to the outside opening of my classroom in mere minutes, providing I don't participate in any impromptu parent/teacher conferences along the way.

I quickly discovered that one of the perks of my personal promenade is the potential for pondering that takes place as I plod along down the path to school (My apologies for the over-abundance of repetition of consonant sounds at the beginning of words. I reviewed alliteration with the 7th graders this week and still have not recovered).

As the seasons changed, so has my train of thought as I traipse to and from teaching.

At the start of the year, I walked to and from school almost every day, except when after-school meetings at the library or the district office didn't leave the requisite trekking time in my scholarly schedule.

I would leave a little earlier in the mornings (in an attempt to be off the streets before they were flooded with ambulatory kidlets), and use those minutes of calm and quiet to arrange my thoughts for the day.
Thoughts that needed arranging included:

Wow. It is a beautiful morning!

The wind must have shifted to the east because the cow aroma is coming through much clearer today with only subtle hints of horse manure.

I need to make copies of that alliteration assignment before first hour.

I wonder if spending a whole class period on alliteration will have any negative and/or annoying effects later on?

Don't forget to tell Student X how much fun it was to read his poetry assignment.

Who would have thought that there are so many words in the English language that rhyme with "fart".

If I send two emails every day this week, I will be close to hitting my parent-contact goal.

Should I talk to the school counselor about how my fear of parents has resulted in my sentences that contain the phrase "parent-contact" also nearly always including words like "hitting"?

Did I turn off my flat iron before I left home?

If I turn around and walk home to check status my flat iron, will I still have time to make copies before first hour?

And of course...

Yikes! Is that dog jumping higher today or did the fence somehow get lower?

Does my medical insurance cover dog bites?

What would be more painful, teaching all day with a dog-related injury or trying to put together sub plans so I can go to the ER?

How is it I can remember all of the names of my 200+ kidlets, their seating preferences, who they are holding hands with at lunch this week, and their favorite skits from "So Random", but I can't remember to walk on the dog-free side of the street?

Despite the large number of vicious dogs lunging at my throat, my walks to and from school in the fall were a great chance to reflect, de-stress, and breath deeply (or not, depending on which direction the wind was blowing).



But over the last few months, I have gotten out of the habit of starting and ending the school day with a 2 1/2 block constitutional. Much to my (and my exercise-needy backside's) dismay,the combination of the colder weather and a lazier me have resulted in fewer school day strolls.

But when (what was supposed to be) a big snowstorm was set to roll in this week, neither the low temperatures nor my high level of slothfulness could overpower my unwillingness to drive in the snow.

So, on Wednesday morning, I bundled up, left my car in the carport, and set out for school on foot. As I stepped out into the flurry-filled morning, I instantly noticed a change in my mental meandering.

Now my walking thoughts were more along the line of...

• It's kind of chilly.



• Like, really chilly.



• I hope I don't slip and fall.



• If I do slip and fall, I hope it isn't in front of one of my kidlets homes.



• If I do slip and fall in front of one of my kidlets' homes and their families laugh and point at me through their kitchen window, can I count that as a parent contact?



• What if I slip and fall and hit my head and the parent asks me if I need them to call 911?



• If the paramedic or ambulance driver who comes to take me to the hospital is the mother or father of one of my students, can I count THAT as a parent contact, even if I am only semi-conscious?
  It is so interesting how, when the air is colder, the cow aroma takes on a whole new array of subtle nuances.

Anyway, to make a long blog post only slightly less long, the content and quality of my walking-to-school thought processes change significantly with changes in the weather.

I thought about extending this little personal study into the thoughts that I have while driving back and forth to school but, as anyone who has ever seen me drive can attest, not a lot of thinking goes on when I am behind the wheel.

Sad, but true.

Which means that, even when the sidewalks are icy and the blood-thirsty dogs are out in force, it is still much safer for everyone if I walk to school.

The point of the particular post: Winter walking can wilt and wither the wondering of wandering women when wintry winds whip them down the whirling way.

And alliteration should never be taught for 72 minutes at a time.

The Plural of Nemesis is Nemeses

I had a very difficult time selecting my top nemesis this week.

There was, of course, the evil lap top that dedicated all of its RAM, battery cells, DDR, and pixels to thwarting my attempts to finish the 6th grade orientation video.

Then there was this thing that took up both lanes as it puttered along in front of me for blocks and blocks, making me later for a meeting I was already late for.

Putter, putter, putter, putter, putter, putter.

But it turns out that, when it comes down to the nemesis-selecting-wire, neither thwarting nor puttering could compare to the lovely spring weather we have been enjoying.


Of course, by "lovely" I mean "freezing", and "enjoying" is code for "whining through chattering teeth and frostbitten lips." But that is what spring in Idaho is all about, right? The traditional juxtaposition of cheery spring decor on the same stoop as a snow shovel.

Don't get me wrong. I am a life-long Idahoan, and as such am very used to the whole "Spring in Idaho" thing. I am fine with blasting the heater on the way to school in the morning...

...and then rocking the AC on the way home in the evening.

I don't have a problem with wearing a breathable ensemble to teach in, then throwing on a jacket when I get chilly.

Ooops. Wait. THIS is the jacket I throw on when I get chilly. THAT was the boa I throw on when I get dramatic.

No, my problem (besides my unhealthy affinity for feather boas) is that wretched wind that has been howling up and down my valley for days on end.

The wind that threatens to rip my car door off its hinges whenever I try to exit my vehicle.

The wind that transforms my hair from a reasonably presentable teacher-do to an eye-lashing mass of swirling furry to a tangled nest of very unpresentable knots of frizz.

The wind that, I am fairy certain, carried off a few of the scrawnier 7th graders during this mornings fire drill. But don't worry about the overly-aerodynamic kidletts. If the wind blew them all the way to Wyoming, they could actually attend a school that can afford luxuries like chalk and toilet paper. Lucky overly-aerodynamic kidletts...

But this blasted wind hasn't just carried off things like scrawny sevies and half-hearted hair-dos. It has also carried things into my valley. This like obscene amounts of sinus-torturing pollen, miles of soul-dampening clouds, and...

... lots and lots of hail, which is pretty much just snow with a bad attitude and a license to maim.

And after early morning exercise and a full day of teaching, I just don't have the energy to run to my car while trying to dodge sharp chunks of ice with added velocity from 40 mile and hour winds.

There is one nice thing about battling this particular nemesis, though. Unlike the evil computer, I am not alone in this fight. And together, as a community, I know we can survive this wind and end up better and stronger because of it.

And that will make us better prepared for next week's challenge: Learning to use punctuation.

A Few Thoughts on Natural Selection in the BJHS Bobcat Population

A few weeks before Christmas, some weather came through these parts.

The wet and cold kind of weather.

By some strange twist of fate, the wet, cold weather actually came and went before I had any kind of outside "duty". But it left behind a bunch of ice that stuck around until it was my turn to patrol the bus zone for a week in an attempt ensure no kidlets were squished.
I spent all that week trying to convince the kidlets that playing on the ice was a bad idea.

Well, that's not entirely true.

The truer statement is that I spent most of that week trying to convince the kidlets that playing on the ice was a bad idea. I spent the rest of that week helping teary-eyed kidlets limp back into the building so they could get ice packs to ice down their ice-induced injuries.

Every day, right after the 3:15 bell, I told the same herd of kidlets that they would get hurt if they kept playing on the ice. They paid me no heed... no heed at all... and continued playing until the 3:30 bell when, without fail, one of their comrades in arms would succumb to the laws of physics and prove my much-repeated (and just as much ignored) point. The sight of one of their own trying to hold back tears of pain was the only thing that could convince them to stay off the ice.

And that only lasted until the next day's 3:15 bell. Then the whole sad scene would be repeated.

Flash-forward to today, our first day back at school after Christmas break.

Once again, Weather had seen fit to cover large chunks of the school grounds with ice. Likewise, the kidlets had once again seen fit to use that ice in their misguided attempts to massacre themselves...I mean to have fun.

As soon as I left the building, I saw them running and slipping and scooting and sliding.

I immediately opened my mouth to holler some words of warning and of prohibition.

Then I remembered how poorly my sage advice had been received before the break.

Then I remembered the process of natural selection.

And then I accepted a snack-sized Snickers bar from a trustworthy kidlet, and sat back to watch nature do its best to thin the herd.

I have to admit that I felt very at peace with my decision to let the ice-related consequences flow as freely as the ice-related runoff flowed from the roof of the school.

In fact, I was feeling so in tune with Mother Nature's way of tweaking the gene pool, I didn't even remind the kidlets that the janitorial staff had waxed the floor outside of my classroom over the break.

Granted, I may regret my chosen course of action midway through the week after a few lunch periods spent mopping up splattered 7th graders from frozen basketball courts and freshly mopped floors.

And there is a very good chance that by Wednesday afternoon I will back sounding a voice of warning, heeded or not, because I really do care about the knuckle heads...

... and because I have a tendency to faint at the sight of blood.

But mostly because I care about the knuckleheads.